


I'll meet you half way, you know where.

by InTheMidst_OfItAll



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The 100 (TV) Fusion, Bellarke, F/M, college students, from strangers to friends?, just if you're a little bored, maybe to lovers? hehe, some bellarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 12:44:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6985696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InTheMidst_OfItAll/pseuds/InTheMidst_OfItAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke is a very stressed college student that wants nothing but a break from studying, but Bellamy gets in the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll meet you half way, you know where.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay hi!! So this is my very first attempt on story making, this was originally my English final, which I'm still not sure I actually passed, but oh well. It might not be as good as I hoped but as a beginner I do receive constructive criticism, so please feel free to comment some little suggestions, in the mean time, enjoy!!!
> 
> -Michelle

Clarke had spent all morning studying at the library, and from the moment she sat down to include new information about the history of the world, all she really wanted to do was to stop. When she finally took a break, she was exhausted, and outside, the sky had started getting orange and the traffic had somehow slowed down. Putting all her stuff away, and then throwing her backpack over shoulder, she walked out of the campus, the chilly wind hugging her body more than she liked to, her sense of direction leading her to the nearest, and more popular coffee house among the college students. Once she reached the door, pulling it open, she was met with the strong odor of coffee, something she secretly loved. 

The Dropship had opened a year ago, when she had first started college, and was now the go-to place for her and her group of friends. It had a city vibe to it, the walls were lined up by pictures taken by one of the customers, whose name Clarke had already forgotten; the tables did not match the chairs, and the chairs did not match each other, in the back there were loveseats that made it feel as if it was a tiny living room, coffee tables and lamps all around. There was even a bookcase and a vinyl player, but no one really touched any of them, Clarke didn’t think they were meant to, it was mostly just for decor. 

She ordered her usual drink, black coffee, for she needed to stay awake till at least midnight. All she needed was to have a stress-free afternoon, without anyone interrupting her break from studying, if that was actually really possible, given to the endless possibilities that something could go wrong in The Big Apple.

The barista called her name, and with a small ‘thank you’ she headed to the table by the window, she sat down and opened her history book, of course she'd study during her break. She was lost rather on her thoughts, than on her book, when she heard someone clear their throat, and when she looks up from the book, she finds a guy with an attractive looking, impatient face looking at her. She tries to tie any familiarities, but nothing shows up, letting her know that he’s a stranger. But she is able to make out the slight annoyance his features hold. 

When he doesn’t say anything, she finally asks, “Can I help you?” she presses her lips together, her left eyebrow raising in a sign of confusion.

“You're on my table,” he says, and his words hold something deeper that Clarke can’t put her finger on.

The comment takes Clarke by surprise, she stares at him, perplexed. Clarke was sure there was nothing, or anyone in this table when she sat down. She usually sits at the back of the coffee house with her friends, but today she was by herself. He doesn't say anything else, and just looks at her, his eyes telling her to move before he throws her out, through the window. Yeah, that was definitely what Clarke saw.

“I- there was nothing here when I sat down.” She tells him calmly, she measures her words carefully, because she can see the anger that's building up behind his eyes, like a volcano on the verge of erupting and killing everything on it’s path. And on that path was Clarke. 

“I sit here everyday, at the same time, all week,” he says, while rolling his eyes once he sees that she’s clearly confused, and before Clarke could say anything, he adds, “So technically, this is my table.” 

And Clarke, being Clarke, refused to move, telling him that it was a stupid table, and that she didn't see a valid point as to why she should move, when there's other tables, waiting excitedly to be used. She knew that she was just being childish, and that this problem could perfectly be avoided if she just moved to another table, and gets back to studying. But she doesn't know why she just doesn't do it, and she thinks that it's either because she really doesn't want go back to studying, or because there's something about the way this guy's voice sounds that makes her want to listen to him all day, even if he's telling her that she needs to move. Or maybe because she's really enjoying looking at the constellations of freckles adorning his face. 

The guy, who was still nameless and attractive, does not move, and Clarke believes that he’s not planning to do so. They hold eye contact til he lets out a sigh, and with a curse under his breath, he walks away altogether, she follows his broad back till he’s out the door, disappearing with the people rushing home. Clarke feels proud of herself for not conforming to his wishes, but feels disappointed that she’s got nothing pretty to look at, leaving her with no other option than to go back to killing her neurons by studying. She goes back to studying WWI, but something out of the ordinary catches her eye, on the opposite chair there’s a book, The Iliad is printed in a nice cursive on the front cover, and next to it, a coffee cup with the name Bellamy written sloppily in black ink. 

 

*****

The sound of keys jangling drives Clarke to look towards the door, her roommate, Raven, talks animatedly in the phone. Clarke eyes her curiously, her cheeks are blushed and she’s smiling contently with the person on the other side. Once she hangs up, she lets herself fall on the couch, letting out a happy sigh, and smiling to nothing in particular, or nothing that Clarke knows, yet. 

“What’s up with you?” 

“Oh, nothing,” she says, she fiddles with her fingers, and looks up to Clarke, who has no idea what’s happening.

“I’ve got a date,” she tells Clarke, her bottom lip is tucked between her teeth, trying to contain the smile that’s forming unconsciously. Her eyes have that unusual glow that Clarke hasn’t seen on her for a very long time. It makes Clarke happy, she knows how hard Raven has had it. 

“Woah. That’s great!” she hugs Raven tightly, and when she lets go, she has a questioning look on her face, “What’s that?” She motions to something behind Clarke, and she knows she has been caught. After Clarke found the book a week ago, she hasn’t been able to get a certain face out of her thoughts. She knows it’s stupid to think so much about someone who probably hates her, but the book is a constant reminder that he was real. She’s been going back to The Dropship for the past week, same time as the when she took his table, only to be disappointed. He was never there. 

“Oh. That.” Raven knows well about Clarke’s encounter with Bellamy (she decided not to tell Raven his name, to her he’s just table-boy) and knows that the book is his, she just doesn’t know that Clarke may be just a little obsessed with him. There’s just some things that best friends are entitled to know. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve been torturing yourself with that?” She asks, reaching towards the book, her eyes searching for an answer on Clarke’s face. 

“That? No!” Clarke laughs, and she really hopes that Raven doesn’t notice the fakery behind it, “I, um, I just want to read it.” She shrugs, pressing her lips in a tight smile. Her friend turns the book, opens the cover, the back cover, flips it; purpose unknown. She hands it back and stands up from the couch. 

“Yeah, because you love Homer.” The sarcasm in her tone is audible, Clarke watching her walk towards her room, not before screaming, “I’m not interested in him, if that’s what you’re thinking!”

And Clarke doesn’t know if she’s saying it to convince Raven, or herself.

*****

After a sleepless night of Clarke battling with her thoughts, she decides to head to the library the next afternoon. She hasn’t been in there since she had the argument with Bellamy. She laughs mentally, he probably doesn’t even know her name, and Clarke has been referring to him with his name, when introductions were obviously of no importance. At this time, people are out of classes, having tutoring and whatnot, so she heads straight to the back, where silence is granted to the lonesome. She likes the library, it’s a quiet place, with tables all over the room, and bookshelves loaded with unread books, it gives her a place to think. But during finals season, the library is a scary place, it’s filled with either an eerie silence or with the sound of students screaming, trying to pass their classes. Clarke likes to think of it as the eye of the hurricane. 

She eyes the bookshelves, and she spots the Greek Mythology section, her hand reaches to one of the books, not really knowing why. But before she reaches for any book on it, she shakes her head and rolls her eyes at herself, knowing that nothing is as stupid as thinking about someone who clearly wants nothing from her. She makes a turn to the left, and the to the right, walking as far away as possible from the noise behind her, and possibly from her thoughts. She makes a last turn to the right, she knows there’s a spot in the back of the library that no one ever goes to, but as soon as the last turn is made, she stops abruptly, her eyes threatening to fall out of her head. 

With his head stuck in a book, and notebooks splattered all over the table, sits none other than Bellamy, better known as table-boy, coffee-boy, or freckled-boy. His black, curly hair looks the same as last time, it's a messy mop of hair that looks as if it was meant to be messy. He wears a grey t-shirt that looks way too small, and tight on him. And it makes Clarke blush. He hasn't noticed that she's standing there, and she battles with herself on whether she should head back to her apartment and torture herself with his book, or to face him once and for all. 

Before her head is able to make a rational decision, her legs carry her towards the table, and she's unable to stop herself. It isn't till she pulls the chair to sit down that she's able to see his face. 

“Oh, sorry, I’ll-,” he makes an attempt at moving his stuff away to make space for Clarke, but he finally recognizes the blonde in front of him.

A grins forms in his face and Clarke mentally rolls her eyes. At least he seems to be in a good mood, she thinks, which is a complete different thing from the last time she talked to him.

“If it isn’t Miss Princess,” he says when Clarke sits down, “did you follow me here just to take my table?” He asks arching an eyebrow, a growing smirk visible.

“I came here to study, so if you could just be quiet.” She says opening her book, trying to look like she was actually reading, when in reality her thoughts were elsewhere, making her read the same sentence a couple of times. 

“And to think I almost would've moved my stuff.” His words are full of ambiguity, and battling with the growing urge of wanting to smack the stupid smirk off of his face. It’s really hard to be annoyed with someone who has a face carved by the gods. She places her backpack in front of her, in a way that she's unable to see him. She can almost feel the burning stare his eyes have casted on her. And she becomes insecure of her every move. 

When she tries to be subtle about looking at him, she finds his eyes centered on something inside her backpack, she follows his gaze, looking for whatever he’s looking at, her eyes landing on The Iliad.

“I-”

“Is that my book?” 

“Maybe,” she hesitates, “yes.” She sighs in defeat. 

“Yeah,” she says more surely, "You left it a The Dropship," she hands it to him, the slight touch between their fingers achieve to send a burning electricity through Clarke's body.

They don’t say anything else for a while, she could practically see his brain working, trying to put the pieces together, she doesn’t know how much time it has passed till he actually speaks again.   
“We seriously have to stop meeting like this.” She chuckles a little, gaining a smile from him.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“How about you meet me later,” it sounded more like a statement than a question, “Coffee, seven?” His smile is genuine, and she’s pretty sure she looks like an idiot. Her words have failed her, so she just nods repeatedly. 

He smiles at her one last time, and before they both go back to reading, he says, “You know where.” His eyes linger a while longer on her, and she really can’t stop smiling, her heart is racing and her cheeks blushed. She feels like she’s just been in a rollercoaster and the drive was pretty unexpected.

All she can think about is that studying may not be that bad after all.


End file.
